


5 Times Stiles Kissed Derek (and one time Derek kissed Stiles)

by Porphyria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Multi, very little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porphyria/pseuds/Porphyria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Stiles has this problem, it's not life impeding or anything. It's really simple to solve actually.</p><p>He just needs to find a way to keep his face from mashing into Derek Hale's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Stiles Kissed Derek (and one time Derek kissed Stiles)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge amazing thanks to my beta panickyintheuk. You, my dear, are a dollface. My shitty writing was made less shitty thanks to you!

1)  
The first time was innocuous enough.

Derek had just killed Peter, and while Stiles usually had enough self-preservation not to go walking straight into death’s needy arms (especially with Derek’s glowy red eyes and “I’m the Alpha now”) he seemed sufficiently lacking in that particular instinct tonight.

Derek dragged Peter’s body off into the spooky woods (who knows—maybe he had some secret clubhouse; Stiles could totally see Derek lurking in a wooden hut with a sign on the door reading ‘Only Creepers Allowed’) surrounding the former Hale home. Was Peter going to get a burial, or some sort of wolfy send-off into an afterlife filled with killing small cute forest critters and frolicking in the woods for all eternity? Was that what you did when your uncle murdered a bunch of people? Stiles didn’t know.

Anyway, the joy bursting within Stiles at having slain Darth Vader, murdered Voldemort, insert victorious good-trumps-evil pop culture reference here, was becoming overwhelming. Which was why Stiles couldn’t be blamed for what happened next.

Derek was emerging from the shadowy depths and migrating closer to the front yard at the same moment that Stiles, vibrating with victory, started running toward him like a deranged squirrel. He ended up, somehow, with his legs squeezing around Derek’s (very, very muscular) waist, like a Boa Constrictor, with his arms encircling Derek’s neck. Stiles was not even going to think about how exactly he got into this position, partly because he expected it involved him doing a Dirty Dancing Baby jump at Derek, who didn’t get the memo, and instead of holding Stiles up in triumph, reacted on instincts and grabbed at Stiles.

So Stiles, because his self-preservation was at zero, leant forward and pressed his lips against Derek’s forehead, smacking loudly and proudly. 

After, there was a good 10-second pause where neither of them was completely sure of what just happened.

Then Stiles found himself on his ass in the still-recovering dead grass. Derek stomped away into the house, presumably to clean up the mess Kate Agent’s corpse had made. Bitch was still causing problems. And Stiles was left having to deal with Scott’s incredulous face and Mr. Argent’s huff and Allison’s weird little smile/smirk (because Allison was way too sweet to full on Jackson, douchecanoe smirk).

So, that happened.

2) 

They were on a recon mission. It was just supposed to be reconnaissance. No interaction with the enemy. At all. Which was why Stiles was still having trouble reconciling that with Isaac’s broken form on the hard cement floor of the not-so-abandoned warehouse.

Isaac was not allowed to get hurt. Ever. Not after what his dad did.

And yet, there he was twisted and bleeding—a piece of wrought iron—so very strong, but so very misshapen at the same time. Yet Isaac did not scream, or even cry really. He kept his eyes closed, and muttered something under his breath, some nursery rhyme, Stiles thought. 

Logically, Stiles knew that he was healing, slowly, but still ew. Every few minutes or so one of Isaac’s bones would snap back into place, wincing at the popping sound it made, everyone would breathe a sigh of relief. There were only so many bones in the human body; Isaac had to be healed soon. However, that didn’t stop Stiles from freaking out at the red seeping into the drainage of last night’s rainfall. 

He was nothing compared to Derek. His thick eyebrows bunched up into a V, eyes never leaving Isaac. 

It was Derek’s idea to gather information on the suspicious 30-something who looked perfectly kind and normal (she owned a tea shop/used bookstore for God’s sake!), yet she moved to Beacon Hills about the same time some crazy, supernatural shit started to go down. Turns out she was a crazy bitch. She didn’t take kindly to being stalked. 

Crack! Crack! Pop!

Isaac’s femur submerged back underneath his flesh. 

Derek’s eyes never wavered from Isaac’s wry form. It was easy to see the pain and guilt in them. Even Scott kept his eyes anywhere but Derek. Derek had already lost so much, all of which he blamed himself for. 

Stiles was going to turn to him and say something comforting, blurt out an amalgam of comforting platitudes, but instead he just darted forward and kissed Derek’s temple, something his mother used to do when he was upset. Derek turned to look at him, surprised, but then Isaac let out a low whimper as each of his ribs realigned one by one. 

3)  
1\. Hamburger meat  
2\. Lamb chops  
3\. Sausage (I’ll make your favorite breakfast!) :)

Stiles scoffed. Yeah, dad, try bribing me with breakfast; it’s not gonna work. He glanced down the list: meat, meat, and oh, look at that, more bad-for-cholesterol meat. His dad’s head was in the clouds if he thought Stiles was going to be buying any of this.

But then again, Stiles’ lying had been getting out of control. Just last week—looking for an excuse for all the Wednesday night dinners he’d been missing—he told his dad he’d joined the local VFW. 

The Sheriff continued to nod and hmph with every excuse Stiles came up with. And he thanked his lucky stars for that. 

So maybe his dad deserved some sort of meat. Fish! Yes, that was exactly what Stiles would get. It was lean and much better for his dad than beef, but it was also a hearty substitute. The looks his dad gave him when he brought home tofu…

Stiles darted away from his cart, abandoning it in the produce section, to snatch up some fresh tilapia. Just when he was rounding the corner into the seafood section of Marty’s Mart—the local grocery store that was shady as all fuck—he smacked into something hard, pressed all up against the front of him. Some dude’s body—just a mass of muscle really—was touching places no one but Stiles had ever touched before. And, what was that? On his face, his lip area in general. Was that… was that another mouth? 

“Mmmff.” Okay, so maybe speaking was a weird idea. Because it was more like kissing now, his mouth moving against a pair of rough lips, cheeks scratching against facial hair. And wasn’t that just weird because he could swear he smelled Derek, all nature and leather.

Wow, he’d really been getting around lately. Three not-kisses in the span of a few months. What a floozy.  
He stumbled back from what was definitely Derek, when he heard the squeak of a soccer mom’s cart going down the other aisle. Derek’s stoic face came into view as Stiles flailed back. 

“Um. Okay then. How about we never talk about this again then? Yeah yup yea, sounds like a great idea. Good talk!” He slapped Derek on the shoulder and bolted out the store, leaving his groceries in the produce section.

4) 

What was with all the supernatural creatures stalking JUNGLE. Seriously, was there something about gay men grinding that drew all the monsters out of the woodwork? It was like his father and Krispy Kream. Ridiculous. 

A fucking vampire was in town. Fucking Beacon Hills. More like Beacon For All The Shitty Creatures Ever Who Want To Kill Humans. That was how he and Derek ended up walking around the popular gay club like a pair of creepers, trying to keep the not-so-mythical creature from getting inside and massacring the sweaty, dancing men. Stiles hmmed a bit at that mental image. Of the sweaty men, not at the image of violent image of a vampire murdering them all. Way to kill a boner.

Stiles babbled on and on about random stuff to fill the silence. Once he actually let his mind wander away from his mouth, he ended up talking about his mom, and from there every third or so word in his never-ending sentence came out in his mother’s native Russian. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, but Derek did. 

Derek listened more to those words than anything else. He paid attention to the way Stiles’ tongue wrapped around the syllables, spitting out the hard edges like only a native speaker could. It was beautiful.

Then, out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the vampire scampering from the top of the club off across the road and into the nearby forest. It’d be almost impossible to track it now. Derek huffed out a sigh and was about to tell Stiles, when he spotted a few of Chris Argent’s goons in the distance. They must have somehow been alerted that Derek was here. 

“Stiles,” he said to get his attention and then he nodded toward the henchmen. Stiles understood right away. Chris Argent might be fairly accepting of them wandering around and conducting their own “missions” as Stiles liked to think of them, but almost all other hunters would give anything to beat the shit out of Derek.

Stiles, quick on his feet, as always, fisted the lapels of Derek’s ever-present leather jacket and pushed him into the brick wall behind them. The last thing Stiles saw was Derek’s confused face before he slammed his eyes shut and went in for the make-out of his life. 

He bit and pulled at Derek’s lips, tongue gently pushing into his mouth. It was rough and dirty and delicious in the way a kiss with Derek only could be. Stiles waited until he heard the hunters’ footsteps receding before he backed up and let go of Derek’s jacket. 

His cheeks flooded with heat and he couldn’t seem to look Derek in the eyes, but Stiles just shrugged and said, “Well that got rid of them, didn’t it?” 

He avoided Derek like the plague for a week or so, and then things seemed to go back to normal. Except maybe Stiles noticed how strong Derek’s hands were and how many different colors his eyes changed to, sometimes. But so what? He was just appreciating the human (or would that be werewolf?) beauty that was Derek Hale’s body. 

5) 

He could do this. He could totally do this. His life was not some Rachel McAdams rom-com. He was in control; he could be a grown-up and just admit it. Nothing ever gets done if you wait for someone else to do it. And so what if nothing came of this? At least he tried. At least he wouldn’t look back thirty years later and wonder what if. 

His jeep rumbled down the long driveway of the new Hale Pack house. Leaping out and running up to the porch he yelled for Derek. Okay, so maybe his life was a bit like a rom-com.

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek appeared, looking broody and delicious. 

“Uhm so I was just in the neighborhood because apparently I am Spiderman and you’re Mary Jane, except no, just no. MJ sucked, go Gwen! You get your man, honey! And um, anyway, I was just like…I wanted to say something or tell you, or I guess ask you something. So, here goes…Okay I guess not. Come on, Stiles, get yourself together you can do this. Maybe—maybe I’ll just show you?” He looked up hopefully at Derek’s stony face. 

“Yes? What is it, Stiles? Do you have new information about the gremlin?” 

“Wow. I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak in one sitting. Are you okay? Are you down with something? Did that demon we fought last week posses you?” Stiles stared open-mouthed.

Derek just grunted unhappily at him.

Stiles sucked it up and just leant forward and mashed their lips together. It felt nice, all warm and close and together. He didn’t stay long though. 

When he leant back he stared off into the depths of the house they’d spent all summer restoring and said, “I just kissed you. On purpose this time. So. This is me declaring my like for you.”

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and looked up at Derek through his eyelashes. Derek’s face had completely shut down. That was when Stiles knew this was hopeless. He bolted. And yeah, maybe he knew going into this that it would turn out this way, but it still sucked. So if maybe his eyes watered a bit on the drive home, that was his business.

 

+1)  
Possibly, after that stinging rejection Stiles throws himself into lacrosse more violently than normal. At least it gets rid of some of his extra energy; he actually has a shot at first line this year. So whatever. He should thank Derek for the motivation. 

Therefore during the first game of the season Stiles dominates. Like really the other team should just go home because Stiles is that good tonight. They end the game Beacon Hills 12, Brecken High 3. Stiles is the hero of the town that night. When the final point is scored (by him, of course) the rest of the team and some of the crowd rushes out onto the field to congratulate him. They surround him, cheering for him, yelling exclamations of happiness for him. And yeah it feels good, but it doesn’t completely fill that empty hole inside of him.

That’s when he catches a glimpse of leather out of the corner of his eye. Derek’s stampeding towards him, practically pushing people out of the way with the kind of determination that almost frightens Stiles. This man is on a mission. 

But before Stiles can barely begin to envision the awful scenarios of his painful future. Derek slams into him, lips mashing against Stiles’ own. And what? What is happening?

The kiss lasts for a long moment, during which Stiles is sure everyone is watching, especially his cop father. When Derek pulls back he grunts out some version of “I’m kind of in like with you too.” And his lips quirk up into a little smile, so small you’d have to squint to see it.

Stiles can feel his whole face splitting with his answering grin.

He should really stop lying to himself; his life is the Rachel McAdams, Drew Barrymore, Reese Witherspoon, Meg Ryan of rom-coms. And you know what? He’s in total like with it too.

**Author's Note:**

> WOW you actually read and finished it. Jeez, you persevered big time. Drop me a line in the comments, I always need to know how I can improve my shit writing. Criticize EVERYTHING. Hit me up on tumblr: Witchywitchbitch


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